The Last Stand
Page 24
Somebody coughed and everybody turned to see who it was.
Maxie Angelo’s body was shaking visibly. It was all too much for him. He wasn’t thinking about any world crisis. All that was in his mind was how the hell he was going to make it through a long prison sentence.
For the first time, Pete said, “Where do we go from here, buddy?”
“First,” Joe said, “we sign some papers that guarantee ownership of certain properties.”
“You think they’ll stand up in court?”
“You’d better believe it, kid. This affair is going to involve an awful lot of Native Americans who can vote and own property and will have the sympathy of the good old U.S.A. behind them.”
“No offense, White-eyes, but we’ve heard it before.”
“It’ll be different this time.”
“Then what?”
“Then we take our government geologist up for a plane ride and let him watch the magnetic compass do its dance.”
“You suppose he’ll believe that?”
“Oh boy, he’d better believe it. He’ll know damn well what’s down there and any greater scientific evidence is only icing on the cake. Now, let me get hold of Walker.”
The FBI man was snapping the laptop shut when Joe reached him. He said, “The authorization went through—provided I get positive evidence.”
Joe nodded. “Good.” Then he asked, “You have any twin-engine-certified pilots with you?”
“I have three.”
“One will do. Now, while we get the cargo out of the Cessna, I want somebody to bring Running Fox out here. During that time, we’ll load the cargo into several of your cars after a careful written inventory and you’ll take it all back to Mama White Bird’s place and have it unloaded there. Make sure Miner Moe sees it all, and you guys keep a damn good watch on it until we get the tribal police to take over and arrange for a transfer to a bank vault off the rez.”
“Anything else?”
“Nope.”
“You enjoy being the big boss, don’t you?”
“Yup.”
“You’re a pisser, Gillian,” Walker said. “I hope some of my guys turn out like that.”
* * *
While they awaited the arrival of Running Fox, Joe took the FBI geologist up in the Cessna. He sat next to Joe; Pete was strapped into the rear seat. Without the load of cargo, the Cessna flew like a great bird, light, maneuverable, instantly responsive to any touch on the controls.
The anomaly that was Monster Teeth Hills was visible on the horizon, then as they headed into its mouth, a nervous tension filled the cabin.
Joe said, “Keep your attention on the magnetic compass and don’t be surprised at what you see. The effect isn’t minute. It’s damn near explosive. You don’t need any exotic equipment to see the power we’re going over.”
The geologist nodded curtly. He knew something was going to happen, but he didn’t know what. He had never believed in speculation or trusting other people’s opinions and had to see for himself. Frankly, he expected to see some nervous jumps from the magnetic compass, but these things happened when a plane flew over areas where there were great concentrations of iron ore. He had even seen deviations on ship compasses when they sailed over a sunken ship in the Great Lakes that was laden with an iron-rich cargo.
He had never seen a fluctuation like this though.
Joe pointed his finger as they went over the jagged innards of Monster Teeth. The magnetic compass jumped as if it had been touched by a two-twenty-volt electric cable; it began spinning, the markings on its face only a white blur. Quickly, he turned the Cessna in a one-eighty, got outside the range until the compass slowed down, then went back in and did it again.
“Want another run?” he asked.
The FBI geologist shook his head. Shakily, he said, “I’m convinced.”
“Of course, you’ll double check it, won’t you?”
“Of course,” he repeated. “Can we go back now?”
“That wasn’t much of an inspection tour,” Joe said.
“It was enough for me,” the agent replied.
* * *
He saw her when he was on the approach leg. She was standing apart from the cluster of men, her ebony hair swirling in the sunlight, ruffled by the breeze. A form-fitting skirt outlined her with curves and ripples and the multicolored silk blouse did things that even made a pilot react long before the wheels touched the earth.
She was waiting. She was waiting for him. Nobody dared get near him as he stepped off the plane. But it was not because of what they had for each other. It was because Big Arms, Many Thunders himself, was standing there, ready to protect his people. His face was fierce, but he was hiding a smile.
The FBI team worked with absolute efficiency. Mr. Walker handed Joe a folder of papers that had come off the computer and, after scrutinizing the signatures, Joe swallowed hard and said, “Where are the originals?”
“Delivered to your main office…” he checked his watch “…an hour ago. You may use one of our phones to confirm, if you wish.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Joe said. “Did the cargo get to Mama White Bird’s place?”
“The tribal police are covering it now.”
“Good.”
“You’ll be available for further interrogation by our people, I assume.”
Joe let his eye reach out to Running Fox. She just stood there and let the wind tell its silky-soft story as it played around her. “Don’t let it be too soon, though,” he said.
“Right. Now one question.”
“Shoot.”
“Why did you want another certified twin-engine pilot?”
Joe looked at Walker, smiled, and looked back at Running Fox again. “Because he’s going to fly that beautiful squaw over there and me back to old 819 out in the desert where we depart in a two-seater for parts unknown.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m going to propose to her. She’s going to say yes and I’m going to marry her. A big Indian on the rez will tie the knot and who do you think will be the best men?”
“Men?” Mr. Walker said.
From the side, Pete said, “I’m one, but…” Then a big grin spilled over his face as it dawned on him what Joe had meant. He watched as Joe walked toward the Cessna and took Running Fox’s arm under his and turned her around. Before they got into the plane, she raised her face and her tongue ran over her lips very lightly and Joe’s mouth found hers and, for many long drawn breaths, they stood there before they climbed aboard.
Beside them, Many Thunders walked up. He put one giant hand on Joe’s shoulder, one on Running Fox’s.
“I’m the other,” he said.
Don’t Let the Mystery End Here.
Try These Other Great Books From
HARD CASE CRIME!
Hard Case Crime brings you gripping, award-winning crime fiction by best-selling authors and the hottest new writers in the field. Find out what you've been missing:
DEAD
STREET
by MICKEY SPILLANE
PREPARED FOR PUBLICATION BY
MAX ALLAN COLLINS
For 20 years, former NYPD cop Jack Stang has lived with the memory of his girlfriend’s death in an attempted abduction. But what if she didn’t actually die? What if she somehow secretly survived, but lost her sight, her memory, and everything else she had…except her enemies?
Now Jack has a second chance to save the only woman he ever loved—or to lose her for good.
ACCLAIM FOR MICKEY SPILLANE:
“One of the world’s most popular mystery writers.”
—Washington Post
“Spillane is a master in compelling you to always turn the next page.”
—New York Times
Available now at your favorite bookstore.
For more information, visit
www.HardCaseCrime.com
A Collaboration in Suspense From
Two of Crime Fiction’s Bigges
t Stars!
The
CONSUMMATA
by MICKEY SPILLANE
and MAX ALLAN COLLINS
“FRIEND, YOU’RE TALKING TO A GUY
WITH A PRICE ON HIS HEAD AND
THE POLICE AT HIS BACK…”
Compared to the $40 million the cops think he stole, $75,000 may not sound like much. But it’s all the money in the world to the struggling Cuban exiles of Miami who rescued Morgan the Raider. So when it’s snatched by a man the Cubans trusted, Morgan sets out to get it back. A simple favor—but as the bodies pile up…dead men and beautiful women…the Raider wonders what kind of Latin hell he's gotten himself into, and just who or what is the mysterious Consummata?
Begun by mystery master Mickey Spillane in the late 1960s and completed four decades later by his buddy Max Allan Collins (Road to Perdition), The Consummata is the long-awaited followup to Spillane’s bestseller The Delta Factor—a breathtaking tale of treachery, sensuality, and violence, showcasing two giants of crime fiction at their pulse-pounding, two-fisted best.
Available now at your favorite bookstore.
For more information, visit
www.HardCaseCrime.com
As Seen on TV!
The Longest-Running Series from the MWA Grand Master
THE
QUARRY
NOVELS
by MAX ALLAN COLLINS
Star of the acclaimed Cinemax original series, Quarry is a killer for hire with an independent streak and a powerful sense of justice. Don’t miss any of Quarry’s deadly assignments:
Quarry
The First Quarry
Quarry’s List
Quarry in the Middle
Quarry’s Deal
Quarry’s Ex
Quarry’s Cut
The Wrong Quarry
Quarry’s Vote
Quarry’s Choice
The Last Quarry
Quarry in the Black
Quarry’s Climax
“Collins’ witty, hard-boiled prose
would make Raymond Chandler proud.”
—Entertainment Weekly
Available now at your favorite bookstore.
For more information, visit
www.HardCaseCrime.com
The Lost Final Novel by the Author of
MILDRED PIERCE and THE POSTMAN ALWAYS RINGS TWICE
The
COCKTAIL
Waitress
by JAMES M. CAIN
The day Joan Medford buried her first husband, her fate was sealed. For on that day she met two new men: the handsome schemer whose touch she’d grow to crave and the wealthy older man whose touch repelled her—but whose money was an irresistible temptation…
This never-before-published novel by one of crime fiction’s most acclaimed authors will remind you why Cain is considered, together with Hammett and Chandler, one of the true giants of the genre.
“Here, long after anyone would have expected it, is the voice of James M. Cain, as fresh and as relevant as ever. The Cocktail Waitress will involve you, and then shock you with an ending you’ll never forget. This is a true rarity: a reader’s novel that’s also a literary event.”
—Stephen King
“How considerate of the postman to ring a third time, delivering Cain’s final gift to us thirty-five years after his death.”
—Lawrence Block
Available now at your favorite bookstore.
For more information, visit
www.HardCaseCrime.com